To Her Arms
by pratz
Summary: A children journey is only a journey from a mother's womb to her arms. Faberry, Fababies, and the story of growing up.
1. Prologue

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

Summary: A children's journey is only a journey from their mother's womb to her arms.

AN: I needed to take my mind off heavy stuff and depressing school subjects. And who doesn't love Fababies?

-.-.-.-

**Prologue**

Quinn closed her Bible with a shaking hand.

A knock on her door called her back to reality. Rachel's voice wafted in, asking if she might come in. Taking a shuddering breath, Quinn made the sign of the Cross to end her prayer session of that day. The more she read the Bible, the more she wanted to believe in miracles, and miracles were what she needed now.

Thus she answered, "Yes."

Soft footsteps padded into the room, stopping only when Rachel reached her side. Gentle hands lands on her shoulders as Rachel took a seat beside her, sitting cross-legged as well. For someone who is usually the more talkative between the two of them, Rachel was quiet at the moment. Sighing, she leaned her head on Rachel's shoulder, and she felt Rachel kiss the top of her head.

"Do you know that Jesus grows up in a family of carpenters?"

Rachel's left arm sneaked to wind itself around her waist. "I know Joseph is. I happen to know a little about the Holy Family."

"Do you know that they're poor? Like really poor?"

Rachel nodded, the simple act causing her chin to bump softly against Quinn's temple. "So, so poor that they couldn't afford an inn for baby Jesus in the Nativity story."

"Do you think—" Quinn stopped herself, hesitating. "Do you think Jesus grows up miserable? I mean, look at Joseph. What kind of wealth a carpenter can provide? Do you think he could only look at Jesus helplessly when Jesus, say, asks for a toy? Or a new set of clothes? How do you think he would say no, he can't afford it?"

"Quinn."

"Because, Rachel, it would break my heart to say no to my son. Or daughter. I did it once," she paused, apparently choking as old memories of Beth came to her mind, "and I don't think I have the power to do it again. I'll die. If that happens, I'll die, Rachel."

"Quinn." Rachel's arm tightened around her waist.

"But my body—my body has already decided to say no, Rachel." She closed her eyes tightly. Gone was the remaining fight in her, the residual obstinacy—or blind faith, she'd say—that had supported her in the last few years.

_The risk is high, Ms Fabray, and I strongly suggest against taking that risk._

After Beth, she had always thought that pregnancy was such a wonderful miracle. A life growing inside a woman's body. A new human calling for a woman to be its mother. A special gift of being trusted and chosen.

_Quinn, this is the suckiest part of being a doctor, but—but I'll be honest with you. It is not advisable for a survivor of a traumatic spinal chord injury to be pregnant._

And now, between the call and her stood an unmovable wall.

Rachel turned to gather her in her arms more fully.

"But you know what I like about Joseph? That he never runs away. I think he's always there for Jesus through thick and thin. Even when he can't really provide his boy with anything luxurious. Even when his boy rebels and hides himself for days with scholars of the Torah instead of going home." She pauses for a moment. "And that's why I know as long as we're together, it's going to be fine," she said, more to herself than to Rachel. "You're going to be a wonderful mother."

And now, her calling was no longer hers solely to answer.

It was also Rachel's.

"We are," Rachel corrected, and in that simple statement Quinn found an assurance stronger than anything. "It's going to be our child growing inside of me. I'm the one who's going to carry our baby for nine months, but you and I both have part in this." Pausing, then she chuckled softly, "And I really, really wish our child would have your eyes."

A weak laugh broke free from her throat. "My Mini-Me?"

"Uh-huh." Rachel's laugh gained more strength against Quinn's hair. "I can't wait."

Pulling away a bit only to encircle Rachel's neck with her arms, she looks at Rachel in the eye. "I can't either."

Two days and one more prayer later, they both went to made an appointment that would be their first start towards motherhood.

-.-.-.-


	2. Godot who?

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

AN: If you read _Family Portrait_ either on my Tumblr or LJ, you'd know where this story is heading. Again, I'm planning to keep this one light-hearted.

-.-.-.-

**Chapter 1**

She could feel Rachel take her book from her hand, gently as always.

"Hello, sleepyhead."

She hummed low, acknowledging Rachel's welcome presence as well as her return to the conscious world. Stretching an arm to her side, she opened her eyes. Rachel must have seen the gesture as an invitation, because the next second she snuggled intimately against Quinn's side.

"I miss you."

Simple words, powerful effect.

She landed a kiss on Rachel's temple. "A bad day?"

Rachel clicked her teeth once, almost pouting. Her eyes were on Quinn's book, which now was lying on the coffee table. "You've been picking up Beckett again."

Well. Rachel did know her well, didn't she?

Though she had no particular enmity towards Samuel Beckett, she had never been keen on the theater of the absurd. Granted, her position as a graduate teaching assistant required her to be familiar with the materials her professors taught in class. Yet she found herself struggling to make peace with the heavy load of the work of Beckett and co. She's just not cut out to delve into the absurdity of life and its expectations, she thought and told Rachel once.

"We're not waiting for Godot, you know."

Were they?

Unbeknown even to herself, her hand slid down Rachel's torso to rest against her stomach. And... that's it. Her hand just lied there, feeling the quiet rhythm of Rachel's breathing and the softness of the thin material covering Rachel's skin.

Were they really not?

Three attempts and they still had nothing.

Three attempts and—and Rachel was still patient and tireless.

And this time, they were really betting all their luck.

Rachel covered her hand with hers, pressing her palm more firmly against her stomach, pulling herself up a little to whisper in her ear, "I hope you're ready to take a leave for the next few months."

What?

She jumped off the couch, almost knocking herself backward, staring at Rachel with eyes wide with trepidation and longing and please, please, please this must not be another hope crushed, another dream unmade.

Rachel's eyes were glistening with tears and her smile was so beautiful Quinn wished she was Vishnu so she would have six arms to grab a camera in each and commit this Rachel to the physical world eternally.

Rachel took a hold of her hand and put it back on her stomach. Quinn didn't realize that hers was shaking until Rachel drew aimless patterns on the back of her hand.

She opened her mouth to ask the question she was dying to ask but couldn't.

Rachel looped her other arm around her neck, pulling her down for a kiss, two kisses, three kisses. "Because you promise you'll take care of mommy and baby," she whispered against Quinn's lips. "And we're not gonna go easy on you, mom."

She choked back a sob.

Rachel laughed and winked playfully. "Just so you know, darling."

Three attempts and they were each other's strength to make it to the fourth.

Rachel's first and Quinn's second scariest nine-month started now.

And Godot? Godot who?

-.-.-.-


	3. Yo, Ginsberg!

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

AN: and I still can't write a decent sexy time for the life of me.

-.-.-.-

**Chapter 2**

_What is the weight of the world, Ginsberg?_

Quinn let out a surprised gasp as a very familiar five-foot-two figure threw herself onto her. Her camera backpack thumped against the door behind her, and the first non-Rachel thing that came to her mind was the painful dig of one of her lenses on her back.

"What took you so long?" Rachel mumbled against her lips, between kisses, between wandering hands, between the thin materials of Quinn's sleeveless top and Rachel's sleep shirt. "The bed is cold."

"I was—" Quinn bit her lower lip to stifle yet another loud gasp as Rachel's hand slipped beneath her top, "working."

Rachel's tongue soothed the abuse on Quinn's lower lip, and she smirked against Quinn's mouth. "Why, you were."

"Rachel, what brings—"

"Oh hush now, darling." And the little minx took her time to feast on Quinn's neck now. "And steady your feet," she whispered against Quinn's collarbone. "We wouldn't want you to drop your camera, would we?"

"No," she almost whined. "No, we wouldn't."

And Rachel dropped to her knees.

Quinn threw her head back, the adrenaline dulling the pain from the hit. Well, it's not everyday one could be ambushed right after closing the door. A welcome ambush, though, she thought. A very, very welcome ambush. Because, let's face it, it's Rachel and her wonder mouth and fingers and skills and—

"_There_."

She could feel Rachel's lips curved in a smile. Ever the tease!

"Don't stop."

That Rachel dutifully listened?

She really didn't have anything against it.

Ten minutes later, two small deaths later, a moment of basking in the aftermath of glorious Rachel Berry's display of sexual prowess later, Quinn pulled Rachel back to her feet.

She grinned at her still flushed face. "Welcome home."

"Not that I complain," she began, leaning more and more of her and her backpack—Rachel's really _that_ good, "but let me ask again—"

"Mmm—you sure you'll prefer conversing?"

Laughing softly, with her hand she covered Rachel's mouth, which had already started mapping the veins on the valley between her breasts, and tipped Rachel's chin up. Oh God, the way Rachel looked at her—Quinn couldn't fall even harder, could she. "Yes?"

The tip of Rachel's tongue met the seam between Quinn's thumb and forefinger.

"Rachel."

Sighing, she took hold of Quinn's hand, dropped a small kiss at the back of it, and held it against her cheek. Oh all the small gestures that Quinn treasured! The way she made Quinn's chest tight with emotions!

"I had an eureka moment today."

"And?"

"Luke."

"I'm sorry?"

"We're going to call him Luke," Rachel said softly, bringing Quinn's hand from her cheek to her stomach.

And there was something—oh God, she's going to really die now—a kick? A kick? _A kick!_

This must be a dream. That was why she was floating and her backpack was light and Rachel was buoying her and everything was weightless.

"And I just knew," Rachel said. "I just _did_."

A baby boy.

"Oh God," she breathed out. "_Oh God_."

Rachel's face lit up like a Christmas tree in the wee morning of December 25th.

In her haste to enfold Rachel in her arms, she forgot about her backpack and the khaki pants pooling on her ankles. Rachel let out a surprised squeak of her name, but years of being a cheerleader made Quinn manage to twist themselves before they tumbled down. Rachel and her backpack landed on top of her, each braced by an arm, the fall messy, giddy, loving.

Breath knocked out of her, she wheezed out a cough, and Rachel hurriedly scampered to get off of her in panic.

"No, don't."

"But Quinn—"

Really, she could understand Rachel's worry. Twenty pounds of her working equipment and a hundred pounds of Rachel on her must have crushed her. But they didn't. They were weights she would readily, willingly, happily carry at any given moment, the latter even much more that she could perfectly foresee how Rachel would huff, and how a light fist would hit her on the shoulder, and how Rachel would launch a barrage of 'While I appreciate your concern, Quinn, it is not I who was crushed, and would you please stop laughing because I'm really, really worried?'

Because the weight didn't matter.

Rachel did.

And now baby Luke did, too.

So she covered Rachel's mouth with hers, kissing her like she could not life without it, telling her the words she couldn't say, singing to her a million love songs that had just made sense now.

_The weight of the world_, Quinn thought as she imagined Ginsberg reading his poem to a boy with Rachel's hair and Rachel's eyes and Rachel's smile, _is love_.

-.-.-.-


	4. Sylvia's Melon

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

AN: I don't think you will still follow this story after this chapter. Prove me wrong?

-.-.-.-

**Chapter 3**

"Why Luke?"

"Santana, don't stop."

"Hey, I'm only doing this because you're pregnant. Now answer me."

Next to Rachel, Quinn looked up from the magazine she was reading. She had never asked Rachel about their designated name for their soon-to-born son. She only thought that Luke is a great name and that it sounded close to Lucy. Well, she did think that it _was_ a nod to Lucy.

Scowling a little, Rachel shifted so that her left leg was on top of the right on Santana's lap, keeping her there to continue the foot massage. Years of friendship and tough love had made Santana accustomed to Rachel's persistence and Rachel to Santana's grumpiness. All for the best, Quinn thought. She wouldn't survive a world where her person couldn't tolerate her most important person.

"Because Luke is a man of science and faith at the same time."

From her expression, Quinn knew that Santana was as lost as she was.

"I mean, this boy," Rachel paused to stroke the underside of her stomach gently, "will bear the name of Luke from the Bible."

Quinn blinked. She didn't mishear it, did she?

"Now you're a Bible-thumper, eh? Neat." Santana shrugged. "Guess Q has rubbed off on you after all these years."

Quinn put her magazine down and twisted her head so that she was facing Rachel, who smiled softly at her and wound an arm around her neck. She nuzzled Quinn's hair with her nose and laughed onto her hair as Quinn reached behind to tickle her behind the ear. Their old sofa creaked a bit at the movement, reminding Quinn to make sure to browse their subscribed catalogue of furniture. Then Santana slapped one of Rachel's calves, rolling her eyes and muttering under breath, "Gross."

"I can always revoke the decision of making you Luke's godmother, you know."

"Nuh-uh. It's the baby carrier's decision, Q."

Rachel chuckled at the now familiar banter between them. "So," she began, "to answer your question, Santana, the name was indeed inspired by St Luke the Evangelist. Quinn here is perhaps more well versed in telling you who he is traditionally, but I like him for being able to bridge the world of science and faith." She placed a finger on Quinn's lips just as she saw her ready to say something. "His being capable to bridge two believably opposite worlds always reminds me of you, Quinn." Rachel paused again, this time to drop a kiss on Quinn's temple. "You struggle with your faith for me. For us. And I know how much your faith means to you. And that's not all. I know all of your battles, Quinn. I've seen them myself." She kissed Quinn's forehead. "And that's how I know I couldn't ask for a better partner for life."

Quinn felt her eyes burn. Was it normal for a non-pregnant woman to want to cry just from listening to a nonchalant—and at the same time heartfelt—confession? Yes? No?

"Jesus, please," Santana groaned, stopping her massage for the second time. "You two are gonna be those parents who gross their children."

Rachel kicked her on the waist.

"Hey! What happens to your zero tolerance of violence, Berry?"

Rachel fell back onto the armrest with a chuckle, arm still winding around Quinn's neck, the other one rising to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Be my knight in shining armor and kick her out, Quinn?"

"Gladly."

With that, she unwound herself from Rachel's hold and grabbed Santana by her arm. Ignoring both Santana's protest and Rachel's surprised yelp, she dragged her best friend out.

"You two are just the worst people to play host," Santana grumbled, keeping her voice down in the hall of Quinn's apartment. Then again, she wouldn't comply if she didn't know Quinn's intention. "So? Spare me the crap and spill, Q."

"I—" she hesitated for a moment, thankful that Rachel gave her a momentary out for this. "I don't think I can handle it anymore."

"Handle what?"

"Being with Rachel—"

"The fuck?"

"—and not marrying her," she breathed out. "Look at her, San. She's as bloated as a melon on two tendrils—"

"Where the fuck do you get that?"

"Sylvia Plath's _Metaphor_. Never mind—that's not important. Look at all the things she does for me—for Luke and me both. Getting pregnant, postponing her EGOT dream, preparing all those stuff just for his name. I can't—she's the best thing in my life and—and also the worst. She's everything—I-I can't—"

"Calm your tits, Q," Santana snapped, her grip tight on Quinn's upper arms. "I don't need your messy sentimental breakdown." But of course. Years of being friends with Rachel didn't compare to years of being friends and confidante with her. "Look. Rachel gets you. I'm happy that she does. And I'm happy too that she gets your reasons for not getting married." She shook Quinn a little, forcing her to keep the eye contact. "She knows you better than anyone else. She understands and, most importantly, accepts you for who you are. Get that into your thick skull and don't back off on yourself now."

She was resolute. She must stay resolute.

She must be the last Fabray in line—the last member of a family whose history was full of deceit and hypocrisy. And Rachel must remain a Berry. Rachel must have her name and her career, and Quinn was not going to drag her down for anything. At all.

Santana elbowed her on the side. "Aren't you soft, Q?" She snickered. "With all the matching rings, shared apartments, that Power of Attorney, and now this baby, what do you need more? You two are way more legal than pot in the Netherlands."

She let out a choked laugh. "Yeah." Suddenly feeling very drained, she sagged none-too-gently against Santana's smaller figure. "If only."

"Yeah." Santana enveloped her in an awkward one-arm hug. "If only." Her best friend smacked her again, for good measure. "Fucking softie."

Then they heard Rachel calling from inside the apartment.

"Well, there goes your call of duty." Santana then added, "You two stay can't separate for at least fifteen minutes, can you?"

Rachel decided to choose that time to open the front door and stuck her head out. "Oh good. I thought I would be greeted by a gruesome scene of homicide." She raised her eyebrows at Quinn, silently asking if everything was alright.

Oh the way Rachel got her indeed!

She took Rachel's hand in hers and kissed it gently, answering Rachel's question and at the same time telling her how much she meant to her.

"Gross."

"Santana."

"Oh zip it, melon."

"Melon—wh—Santana! Where does that come from?"

"Why don't you ask your person-I-can't-live-without here?"

"Quinn?"

"Yes, yes. Why don't we all go back inside so I can start explaining?"

"Just remember to keep all the clothes on, ladies."

"Santana!"

-.-.-.-


	5. No uterus, Schopenhauer

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

Notes: DOMA is ruled unconstitutional, and all real life Quinns and Rachels can say 'I do' to each other. That in itself calls for a celebration, don't you agree?

-.-.-.-

**Chapter 4**

When she was still at Yale, she came upon a quote by Schopenhauer in one of her philosophy classes: 'Each day is a little life, every waking and rising a little birth.'

The quotation actually ran longer, but Quinn didn't remember the rest. But whoever Schopenhauer was, he definitely didn't have a uterus hence would never know that birth was _never_ a little matter.

Giving birth was terrifying.

Rachel was on a bed, having been there for the last hour. (And in a hospital gown, Quinn added. She had grown to hate hospital gowns over years. They are fashion abomination and an unnecessary reminder of illness, sickness, and looming bad scenario. Rachel was the only person in the world who could make better of a hospital gown.) Santana was beside Rachel, wearing a similar gown. At Rachel's feet, a doctor was giving a string of instructions to Rachel.

"I'm—" Rachel sucked in a deep breath as another contraction hit her, "fiiine."

Then why was Luke not there yet? What delayed him from coming and seeing the world? Didn't he want to see his beautiful mama and nestle comfortably in her bosoms? Didn't he want to appease his mommy's distress even though she's away in a frikking different continent? Was he alright? Was Rachel?

And most importantly, why wasn't _she_ there?

Work, right. And a surprising earlier delivery, that was. What a duo.

Screw it all.

A shout of 'She's crowning!' jerked Quinn even forward, and she couldn't get any closer to the screen of her laptop.

"San! Let me see it! Bring your phone closer to—"

"Ewww not a chance, Fabray! I'm not going any closer to your midget's vajayjay!"

"Santana," Rachel hissed between pain and exhaustion.

Okay, that might be a little over the top. Now everyone in the room, who had already been surrounding her, was staring at her. Hmmph. As if it was her fault for having a cracked friend like Santana.

"There he is, Rachel—gently there, dear—push with all your might when I tell you—ready?"

Quinn bit her knuckles so hard. She knew this part.

"Okay, _now_."

Rachel screamed and pushed and pushed and pushed. Santana looked purple as if she was about to hurl up whatever she ate before coming with Rachel to the hospital. The skin of two of Quinn's knuckles broke under her teeth.

Then... a piercing cry.

"Oh my God," she breathed out, her body instantly turning into a boneless lump. She slid from her seat and almost smashed her face onto the table if not for her assistance preventing her fall. "Oh my God."

The cry rang in the hospital room amidst the doctor's cooing the newborn, Santana's 'Holy shit, he's really here,' and Rachel's uneven breathing. Around Quinn, her assistants and coworkers were clapping and patting her on the shoulders and back. Her hearing zeroed in her newborn son's cry instead of all the 'Congratulations, Quinn,' 'He's so handsome, and 'Make way for the little prince, world.'

Her newborn son.

Her. Newborn. Son.

Son.

_Oh my God._

On the screen, a nurse finished wrapping Luke and gave him to Rachel. She's disheveled and tired, but the smile that broke on her face when she first saw Luke made Quinn's heart twist and ache—in a good way.

Luke was all red, just like Beth many, many years ago, and he had a tuft of dark hair—Rachel's hair. And those were Rachel's eyebrows. And Rachel's cheeks. His nose wrinkled when Rachel ran her a finger on his cheek, accompanied by a tiny jerk of his feet against Rachel's hand. Rachel whispered to him, 'Hi, baby boy' softly, and Quinn swore her heart was all over the floor. That's it. She's going home first thing in the morning, photo shoots and _Vogue_ be damned.

"You motherfuckers'd better pay me for this," Santana mumbled incoherently, still holding the phone to relay the tender moment, but even she had tears in her eyes. "Dios, he's gonna make his godmother so proud."

Rachel pulled Santana's wrist closer so that Luke's face was zoomed in. She slipped a finger into Luke's fist and made a waving motion together to the screen, herself smiling that radiant smile Quinn love the most.

"Say hi to mommy."

-.-.-.-


	6. Interlude I: Rachel and Beth

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

AN: For everyone who left a comment saying that the birth process scene in the previous chapter is okay, thank you. I didn't expect that, because, trust me, the real birth process is scary. And definitely harder that it may seem. Also, I'm emotionally exhausted after writing this, so it'll be wonderful if you let me know what you think. Have a nice summer, everyone!

P.S.: the reason this chapter is an interlude is mainly because I want to keep this story viewed from Quinn's POV.

-.-.-.-

**Interlude I: Rachel and Beth**

_and I love you, I love you, I love you_

She remembered running hurriedly from the stage about seventeen years ago after Finn texted her that Quinn had given birth. A teammate, former tormenter, and enigmatic friend: that's all Quinn was to her at that time. In the middle of her way to the hospital, she changed her mind and decided to tell Shelby about the baby, because it was more important. _Shelby deserves this_, she thought at that time. _Everybody deserves a second chance._

She didn't think about Quinn's chance at that time. It was for the best, Quinn had said herself. What good would it do for a barely grown up girl to raise a child on her own? What kind of life would she be able to provide her baby with practically no degree, no occupational skills, nothing? _I'm not ready_, Quinn said herself.

For many years to come, Quinn wasn't even able to say _Beth_ without breaking down.

Rachel had wondered what Quinn's second chance would be like.

Ten years after Beth, the wound was still raw. They reconciled upon a chance meeting in an off-Broadway project, fell into each other, and cared not about the ghost of lovers past. Yet Quinn never talked about Beth. _Life goes on_, Quinn said, but there was sadness in her eyes whenever Rachel implied if she wanted to reconnect with Beth. She heard: _But there's part of me that will never move from the past._ And perhaps it was that subtle sadness that drew her to Quinn; perhaps it was the way her smile was tinted with a kind of mantra of _bestrongbestrongbestrong._

One evening, she unintentionally stumbled across a neatly stored box under Quinn's bed.

It was full of unsent letters to Beth and an old blue baby blanket that had so many terrible wrinkles Rachel was sure Quinn always held and cried into.

She felt so filthy for violating Quinn's privacy like that, but her heart broke for that glimpse into the corner of Quinn's heart that would always be reserved for Beth.

That evening, Quinn came home a bit late, and Rachel greeted her with the first of the many _I love you_ she would tell her in the future when Quinn relearned the art of knowing Beth, healing, and _living_.

"Why are you just standing here?"

"Oh." She didn't realize she was standing in the doorway with groceries still in hand. "I'm sorry."

Curious, Beth looked over her shoulder. A tight smile dawned upon the teenager's lips—tight, but a smile nevertheless—as she recognized the sight of Quinn asleep on the couch with a sleeping Luke on her chest. Beth was seventeen now. Sometimes she visited them, and sometimes they visited Shelby and her in their house in Boston. She looked every bit like Quinn seventeen years ago: tall, confident, and graceful. Even the way her eyes sometimes were shadowed by a tinge of sadness resembled Quinn's, Rachel noticed. But Beth was also everything Quinn didn't have a chance to be; she was stronger and more prepared. _I never lost a mother_, she had told them. _I simply gain one more_. And it was what she had said that led Quinn to take her first step towards forgiving herself.

Still, there's a pang in Rachel's heart that went to Beth as she saw Quinn and Luke, as if saying, _Seventeen years ago, I was in your position. I was you. All I wanted was for my mother to hold me like that. To love me like that._

And somehow Rachel had an instinct that told her Beth knew what she was thinking. And perhaps that's why Beth had said Quinn had nothing to apologize to her because she knew Quinn had never, ever stopped loving her. Strong, strong Beth. Rachel admired her.

Beth drew a breath, her smile as shaky as her voice when she spoke, "Aren't they beautiful?"

Rachel drew her into her embrace, and Beth sagged against her. She remembered the first time Quinn held Luke after she got back from her photo session in Morocco. Luke was a week old already. His hair was thicker, and the feature of his face was more prominent. His fingers were now bigger than the size of Rachel's knuckle. His skin had gained healthy color, and he wasn't as red as the newborn Quinn had remembered him as from their Skype sessions. Even at seven and a half pounds and 21 inches, he's a mini-Rachel to a tee—or so Santana vehemently said.

Quinn was visibly shaking when Rachel called her to come closer and sit on the side of her bed. She swallowed, opened her mouth, and closed it again without saying a word. Gone was the delighted new mother Rachel had always seen via her Skype screen. Suddenly Quinn was back to that day when she was forced to make that adult decision that would scar and change her forever.

_Do you want to hold him?_ she asked.

In Quinn's eyes, fear was warring with unbridled hopefulness.

_Here._

She remembered taking one of Quinn's hands, gently, squeezing it once and coaxing Quinn to receive Luke into her arms. After the gentle deposit, she remembered taking Quinn's other hand to fold it over Luke, giving a pat at the back of Quinn's hand. Rendered speechless, Quinn was half crying and half laughing, but Rachel would never forget the way Quinn just _sank_ into Luke instead of the other way around.

As Beth said, it was beautiful: the way Quinn's arms would support and curved around Luke, the way her shoulders hunched in a protective way as if to shield Luke from every possible harm, the way her head lowered to Luke's to leave the two of them cheek-to-cheek, skin-to-skin, mother-to-son.

_Dear God_, Rachel thought. _I'll never get over it, will I?_

Beth chuckled, softly. "Why are you crying?"

She couldn't help chuckling in return. "Why are _you_ crying?"

Beth elbowed her on the side. "Okay, stop. We're gonna wake them up with our waterwork." Then she realized something. "This is gonna be so good."

Rachel eyes widened as she saw Beth produced her phone from her pocket. "Beth!" she said in a hushed voice.

"Rachel, Quinn's always behind the camera. It's only fair that we get a chance to put her in front of the camera, don't you think so?" Then there was a click and a whirling voice of the artificial shutter, and a picture was saved. Beth showed it to Rachel with a grin. "See? Not bad, right?"

Rachel wanted to say, _Of course. You're Quinn Fabray's daughter, after all. Talent simply ran in the blood._

"I'll send it to you and Quinn."

"Will you?" She didn't expect that. "Thank you."

Beth's eyes softened—the way Quinn's eyes did whenever she looked at Rachel and also now at Luke. "Once you know a Fabray, you get it bad."

Rachel laughed openly then, forgetting to lower the volume of her voice, and Quinn stirred awake at the noise. She raised the upper half of her body, wincing when her troubled back, remainder of her near fatal accident years ago, protested soundlessly. Still, she was so, so gentle in order not to wake Luke. Cradling the still sleeping baby, she grunted and asked, "What are you two planning now?"

Beth grinned. "World domination."

"And the best ten ways to embarrass you," Rachel added.

Quinn threw her head back onto the pillow. "Yeah. And you know I'll tolerate that because I love you both." At that, Luke shifted and jerked his head, hitting Quinn's chin. "Sorry, sorry. I love you, too, little man."

Beth left to put the groceries in the kitchen, and Rachel used the moment to sit beside Quinn, their hips touching, one of her hands toying with Luke's hand on Quinn's neck. "Are you well behaving today, mm, Luke? Have you been a good boy for mommy?"

Quinn rolled her eyes. "Imagine my surprise of knowing that Rachel Berry's spawn could remain quiet this long."

She flicked Quinn's forehead. "Wait a few more weeks, and you'll take it back."

"Well, I'm not the milk dispenser anyway."

"Shut up." Laughing, she took Luke from Quinn—well, Quinn wasn't the only one who was addicted to Luke. "Sometimes I wonder why I love you."

"I don't."

Rachel's heart did a wonder flip-flop inside her chest. Leave it to Quinn to steer a good-humored banter into an easy, heartfelt confession.

"Oh, and Rachel?"

"Hmm?"

"I think now it's the time I give Beth the blue blanket."

She heard a loud 'Damn right!' from the kitchen and, laughing, pulled Quinn up into a kiss.

_like never before_

-.-.-.-


	7. Ned Stark Brave

**To Her Arms**

Author: pratz

Disclaimer: RIB's.

AN: I love intimacy. I love intimacy between people. I love intimacy between parents. I hope this chapter can put even the smallest smile upon your face after everything that happened lately.

-.-.-.-

**Chapter 5**

Nobody knew Rachel Berry's persistence better than Quinn did.

Like, say, her persistence hands.

"Rachel."

"Mm. I like it when you say my name like that."

Or her persistent mouth.

"_Rachel_."

"Mm-hmmm."

And her persistent baby boy.

Exhaling noisily, Rachel dropped her forehead onto the dip between Quinn's collarbones. Her fists, one on Quinn's stomach and another supporting her own body above Quinn, clenched and unclenched in frustration. "Unbelievable," she half whined against the fabric of Quinn's sleep shirt. "We are never going to have sex again, are we?"

Unable to not feeling sorry for her, Quinn kissed Rachel's temple in a soothing gesture. "Time to shut the little man with your boobs, I guess?"

"I've just fed him an hour ago," Rachel said dryly. "Now go, Miss Diaper Changer." She had the grace to scowl, "And you know all too well Luke's is not the only mouth my boobs can shut up." At that, the beeping from the baby monitor became untimely louder, and Rachel resigned to groaning into a pillow.

_Persistent indeed_, Quinn mentally confirmed. _Like mother, like son._

Throwing herself into a sitting position, she shuffled her feet into her slippers. Yet she was barely rising when Rachel suddenly grabbed onto her neck and yanked her down into a deep kiss.

Though breathless, she couldn't help grinning.

Rachel pulled the blanket and curl into herself. "Been wanting to do that for ages." She yawned, smiling sleepily. "Hurry back."

Quinn had felt more than heard when Rachel had been roused by Luke's cry an hour ago, dutifully commencing her duty as a breastfeeding mother and being unable to go back to sleep ever since. After some tossing and turning, fingers then started wandering and lips exploring. Too long. It had been too long. In the last trimester of Rachel's pregnancy, Quinn had lost her appetite for sex because of her fear of harming the unborn Luke even though Rachel and their doctor had guaranteed that careful sex would not do any harm. Two months after the birth, she hadn't recovered from the loss yet.

_Or perhaps it's just me,_ she thought. _I'm the problem here._

She checked on Luke, glad that his diaper was still dry. He was probably only up just because. _Or because he has the perfect timing to kill his mothers' sex drive_, she thought. "Aren't you a perfect little Rachel Berry, good sir?" she said, reminded of Rachel's habit to start her day early on her elliptical. Luke's large brown eyes blinked at her, and just like that Quinn's melancholy melted. "Alright, little sir, let's say good morning to mama."

Luke's hands reached out to grab onto her as she carried him. She slipped a finger into one of Luke's fists, and he immediately brought it to his mouth. At two-month old, he hadn't had his teeth, and Quinn just loved the way Luke nibbled at her fingers. Rachel did, too, but Rachel, being Rachel, didn't only love. She adored, worshiped, and proclaimed it to world. In a motherly way, of course. In a motherly, embarrassing way.

While Quinn committed herself to be a stay-at-home mother until Rachel got back in shape mentally and physically, Rachel took her comeback to Broadway slowly. She didn't want Quinn to be the only mother on duty. _We're in this together_, Rachel had said. _We pay every price and bear any burden together._ (Leave it to Rachel to quote JFK at an untimely moment, really.)

Said duty included, amongst many, being awakened at an awful hour at night, being drooled and peed on at any given time, and being hindered from enjoying bedroom activities.

Well.

Welcome to motherhood: a lifetime job without pay, without day-offs, without any possibility of resignation.

"Oooh look, Mama. Look who's coming to see Mama."

Rachel opened an eye upon hearing Quinn's high-pitched baby speech, groaning when Quinn descended back to the bed with Luke in her arms.

"Mama, why are you still sleeping? Look, Mama. I'm wide awake."

"Quiiiinn." Rachel wrenched a pillow, covered her head with it, and rolled onto her side so that now her back was facing Quinn and Luke. "I'm supposed to be upset with you, but how can I keep being upset when you bring the most gorgeous baby in the world here? Cheater."

Laughing, Quinn settled Luke between them. He cooed as she pressed her nose into his cheek. "Mama doesn't want us here, baby. Should we go and play by ourselves? Just the two of us?"

"I hate you," came Rachel's muffled voice from beneath the pillow. Nevertheless, she let go of her pillow and rolled back to face Luke.

Luke cooed again.

Rachel's fake pout crumpled in resignation before she dived in to snuggle into Luke's other side. "Uuugh—my little prince—why are you so handsome again—hmmmmmmm—Mama really, really wants to eat you alive, you know that? Mm? Mmm?"

They must be the silliest pair of parents, Quinn thought, but that's the point, right? To pamper, indulge, and your child rotten, right? Well, if Luke's louder squealing was any indicator, then they sure did an excellent job.

Rachel leaned over Luke to bestow light kisses on Quinn's jaw and chin. She stopped before reaching her lips, however. "Somebody can't stand being separated from me for too long," she teased.

Quinn stole a quick peck from the corner of Rachel's lips. "And somebody can't stand being mad at me for too long."

"Sadly, I can't object to how true it is," Rachel mumbled against her lips, but the next thing she did was throwing one of her legs over Quinn's hips and crawling over her. "I'm going for a run before I lose my mind from our lack of fornication."

Quinn winced at the technical term.

"I'll stop by the coffee shop afterward. Chai latte as usual?"

"Mm. Yes, please."

Rachel shuffled through her closet to change into a comfortable running suit. Straightening up, she kissed Luke and Quinn both on the cheek. "I'll be right back."

She heard the front door being opened and closed. Then... silence.

Luke turned his head to look at her, as if asking her what on earth was going on.

Sighing, she curled herself around Luke. "I think somebody is upset." Luke blinked, and Quinn let him take a hold of her point finger. "At me, I mean."

She carried him and walked to stand next to the large window at the other end of the bedroom. Opening the curtain, she gazed at the expanse of Central Park where she knew Rachel would be running in. She loved this Upper East Side apartment of Rachel's for overlooking Central Park and having pretty much everything nearby, making it a good place to raise a child. Well, she loved this apartment because it was Rachel's. Rachel's touch was everywhere in the apartment, and she breathed live into the place.

But most of all, she loved this apartment because Rachel was here.

_Then why are you keep turning own her offer for you to move in?_

The inner question came at the same time as Luke made a gargling sound in his throat, as if telling Quinn that he understood her.

"Wrong, baby. I miss her, too. I miss her all the time. You know I do. I mean, who doesn't miss your mama? She's—she's amazing. She's perfect. She's all that." She wiggled the finger Luke was happily drooling onto. "You're a good listener, Luke, so tell me now. What should I do?"

Luke tilted his head, staring at her.

"'Tell her?' What do you mean 'tell her?' I'm—I'm afraid."

She hugged Luke even closer to her chests, and Luke let out a giggle.

"I—yeah. I know, baby. I guess I'll have to do that. Just wait, Luke. You'll see Mommy be brave like Ned Stark. Be brave even when Mommy is scared to death." She puckered her lips, and Luke swatted his fist at her nose. "Ouch. You don't want kisses from Mommy? You only want kisses from Mama? That's just not fair, baby." She must be totally ridiculous _and_ crazy for talking to an infant like that, but Luke was really, really a good listener. "But yeah. I get it. After all, who doesn't want kisses from your mama?"

"You did."

She nearly jumped comically as Rachel's voice reached her ears.

Rachel was leaning against the doorway, her hair and running suit half wet. _Was it—? Oh_. It was raining outside. Typical spring shower. She didn't realize it at all even though she was standing close to the window. _Talk about being too occupied, Fabray._

Swallowing her embarrassment, she wanted to ask how long Rachel had stood there and how much Rachel had heard. Yet what came out from her mouth was, "When did I not want your kisses?"

Rachel raised her eyebrows, challenging her. Putting her phone and headset down on the night table, she then walked to Quinn. Wordlessly, she slipped an arm around Quinn's waist and leaned her head on Quinn's shoulder. Her free hand stroked Luke's cheeks gently.

Just like that and Quinn got her answer. Rachel didn't have to say, _I understand. I know how much you enjoy every single moment of being a mother, and I don't think it's because you missed your first chance of motherhood. I don't think you're doing this because of what you missed with Beth. And I don't begrudge you. I love you for being Luke's other mother even though he's not technically yours. I love you for being here. I love you for being with me. In the end, I simply love you._

There was a burning sensation in Quinn's eyes.

Luke grabbed the end of Rachel's ponytail in one hand and a handful of Quinn's bob-styled hair in another, pulling their heads closer to one another, letting out a quiet yawn.

"I want to move in."

Rachel's breath hitched, but Quinn decided to soldier on.

"I—I don't do feelings. And—and I'm sorry if I make you feel like you're coming second after Luke. You're not. You never are." She swallowed again. This time, Rachel raised her head and looked at her, eyes equally glistening. "I want to be brave, Rachel. Brave enough to look at you and ask you—or beg, if needed—to let me move in. Brave enough to be with you, really be with you. Brave enough to be true to you in good times and in bad. Otherwise—" She broke the eye contact, unable to stand Rachel's now teary eyes, "otherwise I can't let myself tell you I love you at all."

Rachel's arm around her waist tightened, and Quinn looked up again.

"Did you just quote a Catholic marriage vow just to ask if you could move in?"

"Well, technically I'm still a Catholic."

Rachel enveloped both Luke and her in a tight, tight embrace, half laughing and half crying.

"Is this a yes?"

"It's a no. You still have to go down on your knees and beg." Then she bit Quinn's shoulder, still laughing. "Do me a favor. Next time at least please give me an advance warning when you decide to tap on your killer charm."

"I'll make sure to mark your calendar with striking colors."

Rachel pinched her side. "Your mommy is a mean lady, Luke," she said to Luke.

"And your mama is," Quinn paused, "the love of my life."

Because that's it. That's the truth.

_See, Luke? I can be brave, too._

"Quinn Fabray," Rachel's breath was warm against her ear, "I know that when you're being cheesy like this, you're just trying to get into my pants."

"Or perhaps I'm trying to get _you_ into _my_ pants."

Rachel's head snapped back so quickly, her eyes wide and mouth gaping.

"And, judging from his serial yawning, I guess Luke approves, don't you think so?"

Luke nodded in his sleep as if giving them his blessing, and Quinn had never seen Rachel moved that quickly to kiss her fiercely, passionately, lovingly.

After all, nobody knew Quinn Fabray's bravery better than Rachel did.

-.-.-.-

P.S. There's a picture of how I imagine Luke looks like on my LiveJournal. Tell me again how weak I am against babies.


End file.
